Mind Colors
by MiaulinK
Summary: Harry Potter could never be accused of having a pretty, neat life. His legal guardians had one, except for the Boy they hid in the cupboard under the stairs, determined to never let him pollute their tidy life. And then it was torn down.


The Boy (surely that is his name-it's what Uncle and Aunt call him) whimpers softly, tears trailing down his face. He lies, silent, within a cupboard under the stairs. Steps thump up and down (Uncle) and screeching comes from the kitchen, where Aunt is upset over his latest mistake. He didn't mean to…

 _The bullies chase after him, and Boy's terrified panting and racing heart combine, knowing well that there is nothing he can do to escape his fate. He's running into a cul-de-sac, and he knows that soon, Dudley's gang will catch him, and beat him ruthlessly._

 _He remembers vaguely something his teacher said once. "Stand up for yourself, Harry. Bullies will back down if you do that."_

 _He can't, and now he's trapped. As Dudley stands over him, smirking that smile, Boy finds a moment to be amazed that the flabby cheeks have enough muscle to pull up the corners of the mouth. "Got something to say?"_

 _Boy doesn't answer, instead preparing himself for the blow. Suddenly, he isn't there. Not anymore. He's on the roof, shaking with terror, but at the same time not as scared as his form would make him appear. It's like…magic._

Boy sighs, tucking his hands beneath his shirt, shivering. Magic. Aunt doesn't like him to mention it. Dudley can say things like, "Well, the tooth fairy is going to come and I'll get a whole dollar for that tooth." Boy can't. Boy has to be nice and not say that he knows Aunt did it, Aunt set the dollar under pillows in the darkest hours of the night. Boy lost five of his baby teeth last week, when Uncle punched him for talking mean. The bloody gums got better, and he was allowed to go to school again soon.

Uncle throws him out in the shed that winter, and Boy hits the wall with a force that would stun most people, but Boy isn't most people. He's magic. He knows that. Who else can…

 _Shrink a sweater that he doesn't want to wear_

 _Dye his teacher's hair blue when he's angry_

And what about the snake? The snake he releases at the zoo? He's so happy to see it free (not like him, not trapped in a house that doesn't like him). The snake whispers to him, and nobody else hears it. He giggles silently, happy to have a friend. He can talk to snakes.

Less than a week later, deep in the process of weeding Aunt's garden, Boy finds something. It's a garter snake, and Boy decides to keep it. It whispers to him, it likes him, it tells him about the nasty fat-mouse-man-purple and sneers with him, agreeing to everything Boy says. He names it Snake. It's like Boy's name. Boy and Snake don't like their names, but that's what they have in common. If Boy makes them have enough similarities, Snake won't leave him.

Boy makes a friend in the next year, a friend called Hermione. She's smart, and she calls him "Harry". Boy doesn't know why. Only people who are worth something deserve nice names. Aunt is the one who tells him he should respond to being called "Harry". Boy obeys. He also meets another boy, Ron. Ron is a little vindictive, prone to being angry and liking getting back at his family. At Ron and Hermione's suggestion, he ruthlessly pranks his guardians, the people who never told him he was magic. They never realize he is the one behind the pranks, but they beat him anyways, and Boy's resentment grows.

Boy is _Harry Potter_ now, Boy-Who-Lived, future savior of the Wizarding World. Now they'll treat him with respect. He tells them he'll…

Magik them. All he needs is his wand, and his companion, Snake. _Avada Kedavera_ , he thinks. He imagines the horror in their faces as the green beam of light overtakes them, and as death settles on their bodies, before he reminds himself of who he is. The Boy-Who-Lives wouldn't kill his relatives for any simple reason. He knows this for sure.

And then things change more.

…Death Eaters attack. Voldemort comes back, and why, why did he kill Cedric, the only friend he's had up to this point besides Hermione and Ron? Cedric didn't deserve it, Boy did! The blood magic that brought Voldemort back could bring Cedric back, Boy realizes. So Harry tries the ritual, hoping it works. Flesh of the servant, willingly given: Boy uses his own toes, hoping it fits the description. Bone of the father, unknowingly used: Boy has a hard time finding that. In the end, he substitutes rocks. Blood of the enemy, unwillingly taken: he cuts Dudley and manages to use some of that. He hopes it works, and throws in Cedric's favorite toys. If he adds enough stuff, it ought to work, right?

Nothing happens. The pot Boy uses to combine the ingredients boils over, and Boy doesn't get a second chance. Vernon throws him back into the shed, and all Boy (The Boy-Who-Lived) can do is close his eyes and…

More things happen. He is nearly killed by a dementor, like what his teacher, Remus Lupin, rescued him from. He has to cast a spell to free himself from the cold terror the demon of darkness brings with him. Boy (Harry Potter, he reminds himself) is nearly expelled from his school of magic, Hogwarts, for that offense. Then he remembers that there are laws that make it fair.

He meets the Toad, a pink-obsessed witch who teaches Defense Against the Dark Arts. It's all bullshit. Nobody gets to try anything. The Ministry of Magic is useless, all the way until the battle that kills Sirius, his godfather. How dare they? His world wavers and he attempts to withdraw himself from the situation. He doesn't want to be there anymore. There are places, though, that the Boy can't apparate out of.

Boy lunges against the door, but can't get out.

And then, things go further downhill. The war starts, and he sets off, eventually, with his two best friends to destroy horocruxes. It's terrifying, because Ron nearly runs off, and all of them are in terrible moods, grating across each other with their emotions running on high. And then he's captured and tortured. It isn't that different from what he endures in the shed, or in the regular light of day, he reflects, curled in a tight space, struggling to recover from the cruciactus curse. All of his body aches, but especially his broken ribs.

It's daylight again, and so cold. It's winter. He doesn't notice his surroundings much anymore. He barely finds himself capable of thinking about the tour they take. What he remembers most is when he wakes up and is killed by Voldemort. And the Boy-Who-Lives dies. Boy wakes in a white space, talks to the headmaster, and defeats Voldemort. Finally, he is the past savior of the Wizarding World. He is still alive. But Ron isn't, and Boy can't be friends with Hermione anymore.

But when Boy comes back, he still has to stay at 4 Privet Drive, Surrey, England. Boy is unhappy. He is tied to a wall. It takes him a while, but he finally escapes. He runs to his room and hides, silent, well away from the muggles below. He finds his bag, still packed.

Boy opens the bag, digs out his supplies. He hopes there's some food, and he's right. He spots a roll, though he can't remember hiding it there. As his hand goes in a second time, searching within for more, it encounters a rope-like object. He pulls it out. It's Snake. Snake is limp, unmoving. Its eyes are closed, and Boy recalls something he heard about. He doesn't know much, but he can tell that Snake is dead.

Boy cries for hours, until the Dursleys come home, and Uncle yanks him out from under the bed. Uncle holds his arm with a tight grip, and Boy feels his wrist snap.

"Go do the damn dishes, boy. We haven't got time for a no-good kid to ruin our day."

Uncle doesn't do anything, but Boy is familiar with this routine. When he's finished with the dishes, and when supper is cooked, Uncle punishes Boy for getting loose. The first blow is to the stomach, and from there more come. It's then that Ron tells Boy. Uncle killed Snake. And Boy can hear Snake agreeing.

* * *

Officer Leila Shane enters the house, official steps quick with worry. Her gun is held tightly within her hands, and she watches for danger. Her partner is waiting in the car, comforting Dudley Dursley. He called ten minutes ago, reporting screaming from his home, 4 Privet Drive. The house is the most ordinary place Leila has ever seen, boring in its normalcy.

What's inside as she carefully looks around to ensure that there's no danger is far less normal. It's quiet, too quiet. No screaming. Only a soft giggling. She edges around a corner, carefully glancing into the kitchen. That's where the perfect home ends. Across the once-perfect floor is splattered blood, bright crimson, and streaked across the room's walls. Two bodies are lying there, one that of a woman, thin as a rail, hands clenched around the phone line, blood still pumping from her severed carotid artery. Blood seeped out of her mouth, though her expression could have almost otherwise been peaceful.

The second body is that of a wide man, soaked in his own blood, organs leaking through the tears in his abdomen, onto the floor. He half-lies on his stomach, and his backbone is exposed to the open air. His face is slashed across the nose, and his eyes are both gauged out. His legs are unmaimed, though it's hard to tell under the blood.

Perhaps the worst sight of all for even the hardened policewoman is the source of the giggling. A boy, no more than fifteen, skeletal, clutches a snake in one hand and a twig in another. The twig is pointed at midair. The boy rocks back and forth, eyes glassy. A knife rests beside him. Boy, snake, knife, and twig are dripping with blood.

"I did it, Ron! I did what you told me! I got them back!" The boy stares into thin air, and strokes the snake softly, as though speaking to a friend. "You were right, and so was Teacher. She told me I should be bad to bullies! And now they won't get me."

He glances at the snake, and then at the policewoman. He asks, "Who's she?" The snake doesn't respond, but the boy nods and grins. "Okay!"

A moment later, he rises to his feet, dropping the snake and grabbing the twig and knife. He lunges towards her, and she dodges. The expertise of years of training allows her to pin his arms behind him before he can hurt her. He stays still for only an instant, reacting before she can fully adjust her grip to make up for the gun she carries. He pulls himself loose and almost stabs her before she can pull away.

Instinctively, she pulls the trigger on the gun, and a sharp POP rattles the house. The boy freezes where he stands, red suddenly spurting from his chest as Leila takes a step back, horrified by her reaction. His knees crumble and he falls to the floor with a solid thud. He lies there for a tiny moment before his hands curl around the twig and he mumbles something she can't make out.

It sounds like, "Avada Kedavra". He points the twig at her and keeps whispering meaningless phrases, such as "Septum Sempra." The strange words barely have twenty seconds to pass his lips. He barely has time to ask, with a desperate glance to thin air, "Is the Death Eater blocking my Magic? Why isn't-" before a choked gasp parts his lips and his eyes become empty, glassy with death, forever unable to breathe again.

Boy is dead, without even a moment to think beyond the idea that he is the master of death. This Death Eater should have thought before she challenged him. And his wand isn't working.

 **Yes, I just killed Harry Potter. This is based on inspiration from a fan theory I spent too much time looking up, the one where it's all in his head. This was the result. It's my first Harry Potter fanfic, and I'm going on what I learned in the movies and fanfiction, because I didn't read the books. I probably have some of the spells wrong. Please remember to leave a review! How do you like what I did to them? Was it sufficiently dark? And Harry is insane. Officially.**

 **-MiaulinK**


End file.
